There's no end (there is no goodbye)
by youweremybestfriend
Summary: Her eyes shift to something catching the light in the back of the room. Confetti. It's everywhere, on the piano, on the floor, covering where she stood when she broke his heart as if to erase it. Erase the whole goddamn day. a post 2x24 one shot. (possibly more... This is my first scorpion fic so I hope you like it)


When she finally managed to bring herself back to the garage it was nearly 3 AM and she was almost completely positive that it'd be empty. She'd been driving around aimlessly for hours, just needing some time and headspace, the day playing on a loop in her head over and over and over again.

 _I've loved you since I can't remember when and I'm going to love you until I can't forget how_

She felt her breath get caught in her throats once again. It's suffocating her. Every time she closes her eyes all she sees is Toby's face when she said no. She said no. He asked her to marry him... and she said no. She can't believe this is happening.

Once her trucks parked she jumps out and makes her way silently into the garage. The smell hits her the second she walks in. She finds the source; a blue and broken Super Fun Guy mug lying underneath _his_ desk. Her eyes shift to something catching the light in the back of the room. Confetti. It's everywhere, on the piano, on the floor, covering where she stood when she broke his heart as if to erase it. Erase the whole goddamn day. She notices something else on the floor. A box. A small black velvet box. And then she can't breathe again...

 _Where is he? Is he still drinking? Did he leave here drunk? Is he driving? Why the hell, isn't Walter watching out for him? Where would he even go? To his apartment with her jeans still lying on the floor from two nights ago? To her apartment that still smelt like him even though he hadn't been there in a week?_

The thought hits her like a tsunami and she thinks she's going to be sick _. Is he gambling?_

She doesn't realize her hands are shaking until she's reaching into her pocket and grabbing her phone. By then she really doesn't care. She tries his number but it goes straight to voicemail. Once. Twice. Five times. She doesn't blame him, if she were him she'd be ignoring her too right now. Something shuffles behind her.

 _Damn, Walter._

But it's not Walter, it's closer. It's on the couch behind her. He's right there. Like always. His hat's on the floor and there's an empty bottle of tequila on the table and another one that's missing nearly a quarter of its contents. His eyes are shut but he still looks tired, the bags underneath them seem to only be getting heavier with each second that passes. He grunts and shifts and for two milliseconds her heart nearly stops beating.

She sighs, somehow inching closer even though she's sure she's got her feet planted firmly. He wreaks of tequila... and heartbreak. They're both on her. She picks his hat up off the floor, gently setting it down onto the hardwood coffee table in front of him. She throws both bottles into the trash can, not even bothering to empty them out into the sink first.

It takes her a few minutes but eventually she finds a broom. She puts it to good use, and in after nearly an hour, there's no confetti anywhere for miles. (except in her hair, because she still hasn't got to getting rid of that.) She wonders if tonight will be so easy to brush aside. Like it never happened. Like he didn't get down on one knee and she didn't storm out of the garage.

She'd never wanted it to happen like this. She didn't want him to find out like this. She never thought he was serious about the whole marriage thing. For god's sake, it's Toby... he's always saying crap like that. Crap that makes her heart skip a beat and her fist collide with his shoulder all at once.

She's placing Sly's backup Super Fun Guy mug, filled to the brim with ice cold water, onto the table when she catches a glimpse of something on his wrist.

At first, it looks like one of those spiritual healing bracelets (or whatever the hell it is... he has like 5 of them), but she takes a closer look and knows it's not. He said Collins hadn't hurt him. He'd refused to go to the ER to make sure he was okay. _"I'm a Harvard-trained psychiatrist."_ He'd said _. "I think I'd know if I suffered any major injuries."_

But now it's here clear as day, there's bruising all over his wrists. She takes his hand gently and rolls up his sleeve. She feels like she's going to be sick... again. "It's from the ropes." His voice tears through the silence. It's dry and raspy and his eyes aren't even open. She thinks he hates her. She thinks he doesn't even want to look at her.

"Doc," she lets out a deep breath she didn't even know she'd been holding.

"Shhhh" he presses a finger to his lips before moving them to his temples. He moves his fingers around in circles on the side of his head. "Too loud." He doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity and she thinks he might've fallen asleep again. But before she can say anything, he lets out a sigh and shifts until he's sitting upright. She gets up and sits beside him, scared if she moves too fast he'll walk away.

He finally opens his eyes to look around the room. She can almost see his head spinning. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip, flinching at the noise it makes when he places it back onto the table. She still has no idea what he's thinking and he won't turn to face her. She takes that as bad sign. "Are you okay?" She tries to be as quiet as she can, but even then he still hears her and she regrets the words as soon as they escape her lips.

He lets out a laugh. It's dry and callous and it's something she's never heard from him. She watches as he flinches again, surprised by his own volume. "That seems to be the question of the evening." He sighs, rubbing at his temples again. His skin seems paler. That's probably a side effect of the day he's had. She wants him to stop. He's building walls and shutting her out and it's so un-Toby like of him. She's never seen him like this... quiet. It makes her miss his annoying wisecracks and whining way more than she'd ever like to admit.

"Doc... I-"

"I don't want to talk about it." He interrupts. He feels around on the couch, pushing his hand under the bright red cushion Paige had forced them to keep. _"It'll brighten up the place."_ She'd said. _"Give it a unique pop of color."_ He breathes a soft "yes!", pulling his phone out from beside her. He turns it on, only to turn it off a few seconds later. "It's almost 4 AM.," he says.

She nods silently, not sure what else to do. "Why are you still here?"

She sucks in a deep breath. "I wanted-... I needed to check on you. Doc, can we please talk?"

"I'm fine, Happy." He says, finally turning to face her. No cute nicknames, no innuendos, just him. Just Toby. He presses a kiss to her temples as he gets up off the couch towards the kitchen. "Are you okay? Where did you go?"

She's still staring at him, wide-eyed. If he were in his right mind, he'd be having a field day deciphering his own behavior. He looks at her from around the corner, eyebrows raised, and she realizes she's been sitting there staring at him but she still hasn't said a word. "I needed some air." She lies. She needed a freaking oxygen tank. "I just drove around for a while."

"Have you eaten?" He asks, still shuffling around the kitchen, repeatedly opening and closing cabinets. When she doesn't say anything he answers for her. "I'm making pancakes."

"Doc, it's four AM." She says, finally getting off the couch and following the sound of his voice. She leans against the staircase, watching move around the kitchen, grabbing and pouring and mixing.

She's so used to him doing this. Waking up before her. She's always waking up to the smell of pancakes, or waffles, or burnt toast. He'd be in the kitchen, singing along to whatever pop songs were on the radio, pulling out all the stops and throwing in some of his God awful dance moves. She loved it. More than she would ever care to admit. It somehow became the only constant in their somewhat 'colorful' lives.

This, on the other hand, is anything but normal. He's so quiet she swears she can actually hear his heart beating. There's this tension in the air that's shutting down any attempts she makes to even begin to apologize.

I'm married to someone else.

It's an entire room full of elephants.

"and I'm starving." He says. She gives him a pointed look and she's reminded again by how pale his skin is, that he hasn't really had much time to eat anything in the past 24 hours. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"In case you missed it, sugar plum. I spent the entire night drinking myself deaf."

"I mean actually eaten, Toby." He's still mixing, reaching for a pan from the top shelf and...since when does the garage have everything you need to make pancakes?

"When you spend an entire day tied to a chair, eating really isn't your top priority." She flinches at that. She walks right up to him then and punches his shoulder. Hard. "Ow!" He shrieks. "What the hell was that for?"

"Don't say things like that." They're so close, she just realized. She can feel his breath on her face. It smells like alcohol. His eyes are piercing holes into her. It surprises her how much she wants to just grab his shirt and pull him closer. To get lost in the taste of his lips and spend all night falling in love with him. She thinks she sees a faint whisper in his eyes. That maybe they're finally on the same page. After a moment, he sighs before turning around to turn on the stove. "Toby... Can we please talk?"

"Happy..." it sounds playful, and tired, and harsh all at once. "You hate talking."

She nods, turning him around to face her before taking a seat at the table. "But we need to."

"I don't know what you want me to say." He rests his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes. "I want to tell you everything." If he hears her, he doesn't show but once he's calmed down he takes her hand.

"I love you." He says, leaning over to press a kiss into her hair. "So much. I just want you to know that.. and whatever you say isn't going to change that. Okay? I love you."

She lets out a breath of relief, she thinks she might've been holding that one in since she left with confetti in her hair. "I love you so much too." She says back. It's the first time he's smiled all night.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

"You should have told me." She's biting her lip to numb the pain.

"I know."

"Why didn't you?" His voice breaks a little at the end. She can hear how hurt it is, see it as his eyes search for an answer in her own. "Is it...I mean I know you have l issues trusting people and opening up but I really... I thought we... I don't know, Hap. I'm just. I'm really tired."

"Toby, I trust you. Of course, I trust you."

"Then what? Because we've been friends for almost seven years and we've been dating and you're married." He runs his hands through his hair and she watches as he slowly inches away. She closes her eyes, taking on a deep breath... again. It seems like all she's been doing all day. She knows it's time to come clean, to tell him everything. From the beginning.

::::::::

She doesn't see him for almost a week after that. He says he needs some space. Finally uses up some of his vacation days. Finally takes a break he's needed for way too long. She doesn't show up at the garage most days, only if there's a case that needs her specific expertise. Scorpion doesn't feel the same. Not without him.

He's stumbling through her door just past midnight almost a week and a half later. She's been sitting on the couch watching old reruns of That 70's Show all night. The only reason she'd even heard of this show was because of him. (She didn't even own a tv before she met him). She hears his key shuffling through at the door and her first instinct is to grab her old baseball bat and knock him over.

But she knows it's him. She gets this weird pulsing feeling inside and she knows it's him. Which is insane really, because it could be an ax murderer and she just stays sitting on the couch watching a people play with their "action figures". She shifts on the couch making space for him. He walks in, still wearing his hat and she's not sure whether she wants to kiss him or kill him. The door locks behind him and he falls onto the couch, lying on his back, his head resting on her lap. Her fingers run through his hair and they're back in sync. Just like that.

"You okay?"

"Perfect." He leans up and presses his lips against hers. Assurance. "I missed you."

"Good." She breathes out a sigh of relief. His thumb is caressing her cheek and it sets her skin on fire. "I'm glad you're back, Doc."

"Me too."


End file.
